


Reflected Lies

by WorryinglyInnocent



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mirror Sex, NSFW, PWP, Smut, not-friends with benefits, not-really-hate sex, strip club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-30 00:57:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13939146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorryinglyInnocent/pseuds/WorryinglyInnocent
Summary: A follow-up toTake It All, a previous Monthly Rumbelling fic. A lot of people wanted to see more of Belle and Gold’s strange, not-quite-hate-sex relationship, so here it is!Backfilling old Monthly Rumbelling prompts from 2016 that I missed before joining the event. This fills the smut prompt for June: Mirror Sex





	Reflected Lies

Some days, it feels like all their interactions take place through the mirror rather than face to face. Perhaps it is the knowledge that the mirror provides a false image of reality and lets them be together without facing the harsh paradoxes of the world they inhabit.

Ever since that first encounter in the dressing room, a few weeks ago now, Belle has been battling the turbulent feelings that are churning inside her about Gold. She wants to hate him, really, she can’t think of anything that she wants to do more. She wants to rile against him and the fact she’s here in his not-quite-sleazy strip club, in his debt and in his thrall.

Something inside her can’t quite bring herself to actually give in to her burgeoning hatred, because there’s something about him that draws her in and leaves her wanting more.

 It’s a feeling that she thinks he shares. Ever since that first hard, desperate fuck against the dressing room door, Gold has been coming to see her in private more and more often. Something that’s bigger than both of them keeps drawing them together, and she supposes that’s another reason why ultimately, she does not hate him in the way that something in the back of her mind tells her that she ought to. The connection that they feel is almost a separate entity to the both of them, some outside force that entwines them like the red string of fate.

The mirror acts as a barrier against confronting that connection and acknowledging the deeper truth – that there are emotions at work here that neither of them can begin to comprehend. By looking at that cold silvered glass instead of at each other, they can bury those feelings and pretend that they don’t exist. Belle can keep not quite hating the man whose touches she enjoys so much, and Gold can keep telling himself that their quick and dirty fucking is just that, no strings attached, just friends with benefits. Not even friends, as that implies some level of attachment. So, ironically, does enemies. Friends and enemies both stir up images of passionate, although conflicting, emotions, and whilst he’s looking into the mirror and not at Belle’s face in its true light, Gold can pretend to apathy and lust and deny the existence of any kind of feelings in the matter.

It’s just the same tonight. It’s a Friday, so Belle is alone in her dressing room. The girls she usually shares with are not performing today. She’s come to expect the knock on her door at some point during the evening, either before or after her performance. Belle tells herself that it’s just scratching an itch, a long-term discreet arrangement between two people who don’t entirely trust each other but who nevertheless enjoy each other’s carnal company.

This time he comes to her late in the evening, after the show has finished and the patrons are left to drink until the bar closes. There’s a soft tap at the door, and Belle smiles at her reflection. She hasn’t dressed again after her act, just throwing on a robe over her pasties and g-string as she combs the hairspray out of her curls.

“Come in.”

She doesn’t turn to face him as he enters. Why should she, when she can watch him cross the room towards her in the glass? There’s the usual self-satisfied smirk on his face, and Belle matches his expression like for like. They both know what is going to happen now; there is no point in wasting time on pleasantries and small talk. It would feel forced and hollow in the small room, unnecessary and awkward and at odds with the very nature of their relationship – as loath as Belle is to call it a relationship. The mirror does all the talking for them. It always has.

“Are you here to congratulate me on another excellent performance?” Belle quips as he reaches her, standing behind her chair with that unnerving calmness of his, both hands folded on top of his cane.

“Of course not,” Gold replies. “Where would be the fun in that, when there are so many other worthwhile things that we could be doing?”

“Always straight to the point,” Belle says. “I’m beginning to wonder where you get your silver-tongued reputation from. You like to get straight down to business, don’t you?”

“Take your underwear off and I’ll show you just how silver my tongue is,” Gold growls, and Belle bites her lip, staring him down in the mirror. Why not? If he’s offering, she might as well take him up on it. It’s been a long time since she’s had good oral, and she’s got nothing to lose. Slowly, she stands up and unties her robe, teasing Gold with the same languid movements that captivate her salivating audience. Gold isn’t salivating. He’s much too refined and has far too much class for that. He’s appreciative, she can tell that much, but his reflection is as calm and placid as he usually is, immovable and implacable.

She lets the robe drop to the floor and hooks her thumbs into the band of her g-string, a tiny thing in red sequins, the last bastion of modesty that she retains on stage. Somehow, doing it in the mirror feels less like she’s exposing herself. He can’t really see her, he can only see her reflection, cold glass instead of warm bare skin.

Gold gives her another smirk as she kicks the red sequins off to one side and he admires her hairless pussy in the mirror, taking another step towards her and using his cane to nudge her legs further apart, opening her up for him. Belle obeys, licking her lips in anticipation and bracing her hands on the counter in front of her, ass pushed back, inviting him down for a taste. She can feel herself getting aroused already, and she wonders if Gold can tell. His eyes never leave hers in the mirror as he rests his cane against her vacated chair and slips a hand between her thighs, swiping a long finger along her slit and showing her the glistening wetness.

“I see you’re eager for a demonstration.”

Belle can see the reflection of his cock twitching in his trousers, the first stirrings of his erection becoming apparent.

“I can see that you are too.”

Gold just gives a huff of laughter, and then he’s gone from her view as he gets on his knees, hands firm on her thighs as he coaxes her to open wider. Her balance is shaky in the diamanté stilettos she wears, and she leans forward onto her forearms as she feels one hand move, spreading the petals of her sex and touching her in all the right places. The she feels his tongue, hard and persistent and pressing at her entrance, licking up the juices that are gathering there as his fingers find her clit and rub the swollen pearl. Belle shivers with pleasure, her reflection matching her every move. She knows that there’s something a little narcissistic in her fascination with watching herself receiving Gold’s intimate attentions, watching his mouth and hands at work against her naked skin, but at the same time, it gives her a thrill to be able to see it all. It’s almost like she’s experiencing everything twice, once in real life and then again in the mirror.

He’s right under her now, one hand kneading her ass as his tongue moves forward to touch her clit, his nose nudging at her entrance. There’s no doubting his silver tongue now, not when she can feel it swirling around her clit and darting into her entrance, hot and eager and probing with confidence, never making a false move. Yes, she’s happy that she agreed to this little exchange, certainly. The tip of his tongue pushes back up inside and his fingers are back on her clit, working her ceaselessly up towards that peak and over it. It’s all that she can do not to yell out in her ecstasy, but the rooms either side of her are occupied with other performers and she doesn’t want to have to do any embarrassed explaining. They all already know about Gold’s clandestine visits to her when she’s alone in here, there’s no need to add any further fuel to the fire by cementing just what it is that they’re doing during these private conferences. If she lets on just how much she enjoys what he does, then she can no longer maintain the illusion of either hatred or indifference.

He strokes her thighs as she comes back down from the high, panting, massaging her legs until they’re both sure that she can take her own weight and won’t buckle into a puddle of thoroughly fucked jelly the moment he takes his hands off her. As he stands again, Belle can see her juices smeared and shining on his mouth and chin, and he leans in close behind her to grab a tissue and wipe himself clean.

“A satisfactory demonstration?” he asks flippantly. Belle just smiles and pushes back from the counter, grinding up against his bulging trousers.

“Very satisfactory,” she replies. “Do you think that it might be time for the second half?”

“If you’re amenable.” He’s so nonchalantly, but his eyes are darkened with lust in the mirror and as his hands come around her and his tongue licks a possessive stripe down her neck, Belle can tell that he’s coming just as undone from this encounter as she is. He cups her breasts, thumbs grazing across the sequinned pasties over her nipples and teasing the sensitive undersides, and Belle just throws her head back, still able to watch them through narrowed eyes, and still able to rub up against him, teasing him into distraction and action. His hands leave her body and she hears the rasp of his zipper, and with a final little coquettish smile, she leans over the counter again, wiggling her bum and inviting his cock into her.

He fumbles with a condom for a moment, and then he’s inside, pushing in to the hilt and filling her up in the best way. His thrusts are deep and hard, and she can see the sheen of perspiration on his forehead as he grunts and swears, pounding into her with little in the way of the finesse that his tongue showed earlier, just raw desire. Belle doesn’t care, rolling her hips to meet him and revelling in the fact that here and now, in this little corner of their relationship, she has this power over him, the power to render him mute with lust and unable to think of anything except the feeling of his cock inside her luscious pussy.

She doesn’t come again, although his movement inside her brings her very close. It would be easy to slip a hand between her thighs and rub her clit until she orgasms again in time with him, but tonight, she’d rather watch him come apart and see, for that one brief moment of exquisite pleasure, the chink in his armour.

She knows that it’s not a real chink, because it’s just a reflection. She doesn’t want to see the man for real and see the real vulnerability that he shows in that moment, as his cock stills and begins to soften inside her and his head drops down against her shoulder, breathing hard and muttering obscenities in her ear. In the mirror, she can fool herself that it’s just an untrue reflection like everything else is, and that there really are no deeper feelings involved.

The silence lasts a long time, as Gold pulls out and gets rid of the condom, tucking himself back into his trousers and wiping his brow with his handkerchief. Belle gathers up her robe and slips it back on, sitting down and assuming exactly the same position that she was in when he arrived. Apart from the high colour in his cheeks and his slightly dishevelled hair, he looks like he always does, the same cool customer he is in his office and on the club floor. There’s nothing to show that this interlude has had any effect on him at all, and that’s the way that Belle likes it.

“Till next time, then?” he says as he turns to leave. Belle’s reflection nods at him.

“Till next time.”

He leaves her alone in the room, and it’s as if it never happened. As if he never came. Belle snorts at her own bad pun and continues to brush her hair.

It is not lost on her that during the entire exchange, they never actually looked each other in the face once.

 

 


End file.
